


Baby, they're tumbling down

by steveandbucky



Series: in any version of reality [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Background Relationships, Best Friends, Bottom Steve Rogers, Embarrassment, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hook-Up, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Smut, Top Bucky Barnes, background angie/peggy, background clint/sam, background nat/sharon, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveandbucky/pseuds/steveandbucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows those blue eyes, but not when they’re peering up at him half-lidded, darkened with lust; the pout of that pink mouth, but not when they’re pressing against his, eager and demanding; the pale, smooth skin of Steve’s chest, but not how warm it feels to touch, to drag his fingers across Steve’s taut stomach, along the curve of his hipbones, making him shiver at the touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> all this started when i came across the buzzfeed article about the tv show "sex box" (which you do not have to watch to read this, i didn't even watch it) and i said "imagine your otp" and then things....just....spiraled. this was meant to be crack that turned sappy bc i'm a huge fucking sap

 

 

“I fucked my best friend,” Bucky says blankly, as he stares at nothing at all, straight past Natasha’s shoulder and into the somewhat crowded cafe. He glances down at his mug, and his eyes grow wide as he hears it being said out loud. “Shit. I fucked my best friend,” he repeats, then drops his head in his hands with a groan.

Natasha, sitting opposite him and idly tapping on her phone, asks, “Was it good?”

Bucky refuses to admit it to himself, much less out loud, that it was the best sex of his life. He doesn’t allow himself to even think about it, though his mind is cruel and gives him mental images of that day out of his own volition.

“Nat, please,” Bucky pleads, voice muffled and bordering on whiny. “Help me, please. I don't know what to do.”

The redhead shrugs. “You know all I'm gonna say is that you should talk to Steve."

Bucky groans in protest, though he's not surprised. There's not much else he can do. His first idea was to pack his bags and run away, hoping that he'd manage to get over the embarrassment somewhere down the road. The second was to build a time machine and go back in time to stop himself from agreeing to Steve's stupid, stupid idea. Actually talking to his best friend about what they'd done, is the option Bucky likes the least. He can't even think about having the conversation without feeling his whole face heat up, undoubtedly turning into a wonderful shade of scarlet.

For the time being, all he can do is avoid Steve as much as possible, which is hard to do since they live together, but every time they're in the same room they don't even make eye contact and there's a heavy tension in the room that suffocates him.

Really, this is all Steve's fault.

“I don't know what I want to say to him,” Bucky says after a long moment, blinking like he's only just realised it. “What would I say to him?”

Natasha sighs and puts her phone away. “It's like a freaking kindergarten round here, between you and Clint acting like five year olds and asking me for dating advice.”

“I'm not-”

“Are all men this clueless? I'm so glad I'm gay,”

Bucky rolls his eyes at her. “Yeah, same here. Can you at least pretend to sympathize?” He pouts. “I'm miserable here.”

“Bucky, it's simple. What do you want? To forget it ever happened and go on with your lives? If that's what you want, tell him as much. You've been friends for decades, I'm sure something like this won't ruin that friendship.” Natasha pauses and breathes out a sigh. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” she asks, voice kinder than earlier, expression somewhat softened.

Bucky draws in a deep breath and slowly lets it out. He chews on his lip for a moment before he mumbles out a quiet, “No.”

She looks at him and the only thing he sees in her expression is sympathy, like that’s all it took for her to understand his struggle, and Bucky looks away, slumping further in his seat. He almost wishes she’d go back to mocking him, but decides to change the subject.

“So, what dating advice is Clint asking you about?”

Natasha rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “He’s trying to flirt with the guy who moved in across the hall from us. It’s going terribly.”

Bucky manages a smile. “He hot?”

“Very. Even I can admit that. Tall, nice arms, dazzling smile. Clint blushes like an idiot every time he sees the guy. It’s adorable.”

“So what’d you tell him? For the advice."

Nat smirks. “Verbatim? He said ‘Nat, I have a crush’, I said ‘Suck his dick,’”

Bucky chuckles, ducking his head and picks up his decaf Americano, finishing it in a big gulp even though it’s gone cold and tastes terrible. “We’re so lucky to have you as a friend,”

The readhead shrugs, grinning at him, and Bucky shakes his head. At least, for the time being, he can forget about the thing that’s troubling him.

 

~~

 

“Buuuck!” Steve’s voice floats down the hallway and all the way into the living room, where Bucky is nestled comfortably among plush throw pillows, wrapped up in his favourite fleece blanket.

“What?” he calls back, less loudly, because he hates it when Steve shouts from across the flat and expects Bucky to strain his voice to have a conversation with him.

“Get in here, I wanna show you something!”

Bucky sighs and flips a page in his book. If it’s urgent, Steve will come to him.

“Buckyyyyy!” Steve calls out again, and moments later Bucky hears the sound of his socked feet padding on the wooden floor as he makes his way into the living room, flopping down on the couch near Bucky’s feet. “Okay, look at this.”

Steve sets his laptop on the coffee table and angles the screen towards Bucky, grinning while he waits for Bucky to turn his attention to the webpage that was opened on his browser.

Bucky tucks his bookmark between the pages of his book, then sits up, turning to look at the computer screen, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Sex box? What is this?”

“It’s a TV show,” Steve explains enthusiastically. “Started over in England and it’s gonna premiere over here soon. It’s this show where couples go and have sex in the box and then talk about it.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him. “Umm...okay?”

Steve tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, looking hesitant for a short moment, before he says, “We should go on the show.”

Bucky stares at him for a full minute. “You’re kidding,”

“I’m not!” Steve grins again, looking entirely too amused, while Bucky couldn’t make sense out of what he was saying.

Because him and Steve? They’d known each other for more than a decade now, and have been nothing more than friends for all those years. Strictly platonic. No added benefits or anything. Even though Steve was exactly his type, tall and drop dead gorgeous, all broad shoulders and strong arms, golden hair that shined in the sunlight, and that crooked smile, paired with baby blue eyes. Really, he was the stuff dreams were made of. Yet never in the fifteen years they’d known each other had there been anything remotely romantic or sexual between them.

So really it’s no wonder that Bucky is stunned into silence when he hears what Steve is suggesting.

“Think about it, it’ll be so much fun. There are people that actually go on this show...like, for real. I wanna go on there and make fun of them. Put on a show so to speak-”

“With me,” Bucky says, needing to clarify. At least it’ll be a pretend thing. That definitely makes it...a little less ridiculous.

“Yes, with you, who else would I go with!” Steve exclaims, as if that was so obvious. “Come on, it’ll be hilarious. Like in that film we watched last week, Easy A, remember that?”

Bucky opens and closes his mouth, finding himself entirely speechless, because Steve seems to be 100% serious yet 100% amused by all of this, and Bucky doesn’t know what on earth inspired him with this ridiculous idea.

“Steve,” he says slowly, putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “This is the stupidest idea you have ever had. And that’s saying something, considering the Great Thanksgiving Debacle of 2009.”

Steve rolls his eyes at Bucky, who gets up off the couch, going to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, his friend following him closely.

“It’s actually the best idea I’ve ever had.” Steve says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Sure,” Bucky turns the kettle on while he unties his hair from the loose ponytail, and pulls it up in a messy bun.

“Come on, Buck!”

“Forget about it, Steve. Seriously, get this ridiculous idea out of your head. We’re not going on the show.”

Two months and thirteen days later, Bucky finds himself being interviewed by producers of a TV channel he’d never even heard of, in preparation of going on the show with Steve.

Exactly like Steve wanted.

Exactly like Bucky did not want.

 

~~

 

“So tell us a little about yourselves. How did you two meet?” the presenter says, eyes flicking from Steve, who is sitting comfortably with his hand folded in his lap, to Bucky, who is trying his best to not show how nervous and awkward he feels.

“We met in middle school,” Steve replies, smiling easily at her. Well, that much is at least true.

Bucky glances at him and tries to smile, hoping it looks like an actual smile and not like a grimace. He tries his best to not look at the cameras, or the live crowd that’s watching the show being filmed. It’s all pretend, made up things, but it doesn’t make him feel any better, having to talk about all of this in front of a live audience, who will be judging him. God, why on earth did he ever agree to this?

Steve, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, if not a little too amused, and is the one to do all the talking. Bucky sits besides him and disguises his discomfort as shyness as Steve looks at him for a long moment, retelling the events of their first meeting, which wasn’t all that exciting really. The audience coos and claps all the same. Evidently there’s something about being high school sweethearts that they all find adorable.

“And since when did you start dating?”

“Since college,” Steve answers before Bucky even has a chance to open his mouth. He’s either a really quick thinker, or he’s thought out and planned all of this beforehand. Steve turns and smiles at Bucky, all fond and soft, and Bucky can’t help but give him a genuine smile in return. “It was like we just realised one day we were meant to be together.”

“That’s sweet,” the presenter - Kirsten? Christy? - says. “So tell us a little about what brings you here today,”

“Steve wants to bottom,” Bucky blurts out before he can stop himself, and Steve looks at him all wide-eyed, jaw hanging open. Bucky clears his throat before he continues. “Yeah, it’s uh, we’ve never done that before, and he’s nervous.”

“Right,” Steve nods, turning to face the presenter again.

She proceeds to ask them more detailed questions, and Bucky wishes the ground would open up and swallow him, and that’s not even before the audience gets involved, trying to give them helpful tips before they go into the private box to have sex. He sneaks a glance to Steve to see that he’s barely managing to keep a straight face, the hints of an amused grin curling up the corners of his lips, and he looks like he’s seconds away from bursting into laughter. How this is fun for him, Bucky has no idea. And how he’s so confident and unflustered, able to answer everything with only a slight blush here and there, which really makes him come off as adorable instead of awkward as fuck, which Bucky is sure how the spectators are viewing him. Any other situation, and Steve would be the blushing, stuttering idiot, while Bucky swooped in with a charming grin and a wink, winning over his audience.

And then the moment he’s dreading arrives, and they’re ushered inside the box, and once they’re just the two of them, with no cameras or microphones around, Steve bursts into laughter, and Bucky turns around to smack him on his arm, shooting a deadly glare at him.

“Are you actually enjoying this?” he hisses at Steve who nods quickly, still laughing.

“It’s so ridiculous it’s actually funny,”

Bucky rolls his eyes and looks around the room. There’s a comfy bed and a series of assorted bottles of lubes, boxes of condoms and, surprisingly, a variety of toys in all shapes and sizes. They were encouraged to use make use of anything they wished.

Bucky wriggles out of his jeans, pulls the covers and climbs into bed, falling on the mattress with a groan and rolling around to hide his face in the pillow. Steve actually strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed with him, reaching out to poke Bucky’ cheek.

“What,”

“Come on, take your clothes off. We’ve got a show to put on.”

Bucky grunts. “They can’t hear us, they can’t see us. I’m gonna take a nap.”

Of course Steve won’t leave him alone. He climbs on top of Bucky, straddling his back and puts his hands in Bucky’s hair, messing it up.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Making it look like we had sex, duh,”

Of course. Obviously.

Bucky rolls over, knocking Steve onto his side of the bed. “You’re fucking ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous. I want to go home,” he pouts, eyebrows knitted together.

Steve pokes him in his ribs, making Bucky, who is incredibly ticklish, jerk away from him, swatting his hand away. Steve chuckles and grabs Bucky’s hand, and climbs on top of him, with a loud, exaggerated, “Come on Buckyyyy, pleaseee,”

Bucky tries to wriggle away but Steve is holding him in place with a strong grip on his wrists, and in that moment Bucky hates how strong he is. Finally he gives up and glares at Steve.

“Fine. You wanna pretend we’re fucking? Let’s do that.”

And with that he lifts his head and presses his mouth on Steve’s, hard and demanding, taking Steve by surprise, whose mouth falls open in a gasp. Bucky licks his way inside Steve’s mouth, drawing out a quiet little moan from him, who lets go of his wrists to put a hand on Bucky’s cheek instead, snakes it behind his neck and up into Bucky’s hair, fingers curling in the brown locks. Bucky grabs onto Steve’s hips once his hands are free, holding on tight.

Bucky’s lost in the kiss, in the heat of it, the tangle of their tongues, and only breaks away when he registers something hard poking on his hip and absently realises that he’s turned on, as much as Steve is.

Their eyes lock for a breathless moment before they’re kissing again, hurried and eager, driven by need. There’s a heat between them that’s never been there before, and it’s new and unfamiliar, yet Bucky’s caught up in it, and he doesn’t want to stop. They roll around until Bucky’s on top, Steve’s arms wrapping around his middle, holding him close.

They’re completely oblivious to their surroundings, having forgotten they’re in a television studio, clumsily rutting against each other, chasing the friction. It’s not until there’s a round of applause from the audience they they break apart, and Bucky lets go and rolls over to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling of the box they’re in with eyes grown wide in shock while he tries to catch his breath. He doesn’t dare risk sneak a glance at Steve to see what his reaction is.

A few minutes pass like that, the air between them awkward and tense, a deafening silence that is only broken by the sounds of the studio just outside. They get dressed then, and emerge from the box to face the show host and the audience.

“We’re withdrawing from the show,” Steve says, voice a little hoarse, and starts marching to get off the stage and out of the studio, Bucky following him closely and not even risking a glance back to see the commotion that they’ve started.

They take the subway home, same way as they arrived at the studio, and spend the entire ride looking at everything but each other.

Steve unlocks the door when they get home, fumbling with the key for a moment, shoulders tense and eyebrows drawn together. Bucky walks in after Steve does, and he looks up in time to see Steve turning around, meeting his gaze. Steve takes a hesitant step forward, and Bucky shifts in his place, unsure of what’s going on; until Steve strides forward and cups Bucky’s face in his big hands, bringing their mouths together in a passionate kiss, lips locking together perfectly. Bucky moans into it, helpless to do anything else but put his hands on Steve’s hips, press closer to him, seeking the contact. He follows Steve’s lead, and soon their clothes are being discarded, thrown on the floor in a trail that leads to Steve’s bed, where they fall in a tangle of limbs, bodies bare and flushed with heat.

Steve pulls him close to press their mouths together and they’re kissing again, hungry for it. Bucky’s head spins with it, the heat of it, Steve’s hands in his hair, on his skin, tugging at him desperately.

“Buck,” his voice comes out as a low, needy moan, throwing his head back against the pillow. “Bucky,”

Bucky grunts in response, fingers curling in Steve’s hair, tugging gently as he leans down and presses his lips to the hollow of his throat, sinks his teeth into the skin softly.

Steve groans, hips shifting upwards and pressing against Bucky’s, who grinds down against him in response, seeking the friction. Bucky gets his hand between them then and wraps it around Steve’s achingly hard cock, drawing out a little whine from Steve, his mouth falling open and eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck,” Steve pants. “Fucking shit, Bucky, _fuck me_ ,”

A shiver runs down his spine and Bucky nods helplessly, a quiet little ‘Okay’ slipping out from his lips before he can bite it back. But of course he can’t say no to Steve’s request, can’t seem to stop himself to think about what they’re doing, just wants to hold on tight and go along with it.

Steve whimpers at the first contact of Bucky’s slick fingers pushing inside him, slowly, so slowly. He throws his arms behind his head, scratching at the flat wooden surface of his headboard, searching for something to hold onto, finally finding purchase by curling his hands in the bed sheets.

Bucky looks at him, the expressions of pleasure forming on the face that he knows so well, yet never like this. He knows those blue eyes, but not when they’re peering up at him half-lidded, darkened with lust; the pout of that pink mouth, but not when they’re pressing against his, eager and demanding; the pale, smooth skin of Steve’s chest, but not how warm it feels to touch, to drag his fingers across Steve’s taut stomach, along the curve of his hipbones, making him shiver at the touch. Laid out on the bed like this, legs spread apart invitingly, giving up control and giving himself over to Bucky, open and vulnerable.

Bucky swears, digging his fingers deeper, twisting them just right to make Steve cry out, back arching off the bed, a litany of _please, Bucky, please_ , and as much as he loves teasing Steve, watching him writhe on the bed, Bucky can’t deny himself any longer. He _wants_ ; he wants Steve more than he’s ever wanted anyone before, and he’s so hard it almost hurts, he almost wants to cry with the relief as he slowly slides in. He leans forward on his arms, resting his forehead against Steve’s shoulder, hearts racing in their chests that are pressed together, and Steve reaches down to grab his ass, pulling him closer, if at all possible, push him that much deeper inside him.

And God, Bucky wants to stay there, buried deep in Steve, lose himself in the wet, tight heat of him, listen to his ragged breathing and the deep, guttural sounds that escape his lips, as long as he can. He sits up, though, leans back on his ankles, wanting to see Steve. He puts his hands under Steve’s knees and holds them up and apart as he fucks into him, a slow and steady rhythm, biting on his bottom lip as he watches Steve come undone underneath him. What a sight Steve makes, being fucked senseless, thoroughly debauched. It turns him on; he can’t tear his eyes away.

Steve lets go of one the sheets and curls a hand around his own dick, trying to jerk himself off, muttering _‘m close, Buck, I’m so close, please._ Bucky lets out a low growl and picks up the pace, starts fucking him harder. That’s a whole other view, and Bucky wants to watch, enjoy the show, but he replaces Steve’s hand with his own and starts stroking him, hard and fast, matching it to his thrusts. Steve loses it, loses himself completely in the feeling, and he comes with a loud cry which echoes within the walls of his bedroom. His body tenses, back arching off the bed, and he spills over his stomach, before he relaxes back into the mattress, panting heavily.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to follow him over the edge, now that he’s less focused on Steve after watching him shudder through his orgasm. His movements turn hurried, a little careless, and he doesn’t want it to be over so soon yet he can’t seem to slow down, thrusting fast and hard. He stills, a gasp falling off his mouth as he comes hard, shaking with the force of it, before he loses control of his limbs and collapses forward, on top of Steve.

“Fuck,” Steve pants close to his ear. “That was _good_ ,”

Bucky nods, forehead rubbing against Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re a good lay,” Steve says, and Bucky can see the grin in his voice without even lifting his head to look at him.

He smacks Steve on his arm. “Shut up,”

Steve lets out a giggle then quiets down, and in the silence that follows, the reality of it slowly creeps up his spine and awkwardly, Bucky pulls out and rolls away, suddenly realising what exactly they’ve done. An awful, uncomfortable silence settles around them and it’s so much worse than when they’d made out like teenagers in a confines of a small box in a TV studio.

“I’m...gonna shower,” he mumbles after a long moment and slips out of bed.

“Okay,” Steve’s reply comes in a quiet voice, eyes averted towards the window.

Bucky sneaks a glance at him before he leaves the room, picking up his clothes off the floor along the way, and disappearing into the bathroom for a long while.

 

~~

 

“I’ve just, I’ve never thought about him that way,” Steve mumbles, half-heartedly poking at his blueberry muffin. “And then suddenly…”

“And you thought it best to avoid him altogether?” Peggy asks, with a tilt of her head. Her eyes are hidden behind her red-rimmed sunglasses, protecting them from the sunlight that streams through the window, and Steve can’t really tell if she’s teasing him or not.

“It’s _awkward,_ ” he whines. “Nothing has ever been awkward with him. You know he volunteered for my life drawing classes a couple of times, back in college? Sitting there in front of everyone completely naked, and you know Bucky, he has no shame. But the whole time we kept making eye contact and trying not to laugh.”

“So I couldn’t help overhear,” Angie comes around with a pot of coffee, filling up their cups again though they did not ask her to do so. She just uses it as an excuse to approach their table again.

“Angie, don’t--”

“Listen, Steve, it’s only awkward because you're making it awkward. So you slept with your best friend, so what? It was a one time thing. Put it behind you and move on.”

Steve closes his eyes, letting out a deep breath. “This is why I didn’t want to meet here,” he says, addressing Peggy, who grins in response.

“Okay, I’m offended,” Angie shoots him a playful glare. “Think about it, though."

Peggy smiles up at her and then looks at Steve. “She’s not wrong, you know,”

“Yes!” Angie grins, punching the air triumphantly. She leans down to place a brief kiss to her girlfriend’s lips before she saunters away to another table, pulling out her notepad to take their order.

“It’s not as simple as that,” Steve frowns in annoyance.

“Oh,” Peggy says, red lips forming a circle around the word before they spread into a slow smile. “You want him.”

Steve shrugs.

“Well, you’re both grown men, you should be able to sit down and have a mature conversation about it until you figure things out.”

Steve opens his mouth to replies but promptly shuts it when Peggy raises a challenging eyebrow at him. He nods and looks down at his plate and tries very hard not to pout.

It all sounds very simple, but the thought of something like this coming between their friendship upsets him so much that he would prefer to go on pretending nothing ever happened. Except he can’t dare to meet Bucky in the eye, and Bucky isn’t being much better at it than him.

Peggy goes on to talk about other things, satisfied that they’re done with that particular subject, and Steve stays another hour at the diner, chatting to her and trying to forget about his Bucky problem, until Angie finishes her shift and she and Peggy get up to head home.

They wish him good luck and a good night and head their own way, and Steve tucks his hands in his pockets and slowly makes his way home.

 

~~

 

It’s been four excruciatingly long days since The Incident, and all he’s said to Bucky during that time, all Bucky has said to him, are nothing more than cursory greetings and goodbyes, a mumbled sentence here and there. It’s like having stranger for a roommate, and Steve absolutely hates it.

On Saturday morning, Steve runs into Natasha and her girlfriend at the mall, arms looped together and half a dozen carrier bags in their hands. He tries to avoid them, turning to walk into a random shop but she sees him anyway, raising a hand to wave at him. Steve should’ve known he couldn’t slip past her, anyway.

“Hey Steve,” Natasha says with a smirk as he approaches them, and he freezes in his spot.

“Bucky told you,” he breathes, eyes growing wide.

Natasha shrugs. “He did,”

“Wait, what am I missing?”

Steve doesn’t even manage to respond to Sharon’s question before Natasha says, “He and Bucky hooked up.”

“Oooh,” Sharon grins, seeming entirely too amused. “When did this happen?”

Steve feels his whole face lit up, averting his gaze elsewhere, and gives her a small shrug in response. “It’s not really…”

“Steve,” Natasha interrupts him, a small, secretive smile on her lips. “Would you do me a favour? Talk to Bucky. I won’t tell you what he told me, but I promise you want the same thing as him. I can tell by your kicked puppy face.”

“You can?”

He’s still going over it in his head when the two women say goodbye and go on their way, with Sharon reminding him about the gathering at her apartment that night. Steve barely registers all that. All he can focus on is getting the art supplies he came to buy and going back to his apartment, hoping that Bucky will be home. He’s disappointed to find the apartment empty, and mopes around all day, waiting for Bucky to return from wherever he is. He could text him or call him, but can’t bring himself to do any of that. Steve doesn’t want their first real conversation to be anything but face to face.

He drags himself off the couch and into the bathroom, pouts his way through a shower, throws on the first decent shirt and pants he can find, and heads out earlier than he’d planned. Sharon is surprised that he’s so early, but gives him things to do, to help set up the table for dinner, which Steve does gladly, ignoring the pointed looks Natasha keeps giving him, and lets Clint talk his ear off about his newest crush.

The doorbell rings around eight o’clock, and Clint jumps up from his seat. “Oh God, I think that’s him,” he says, wide-eyed. “Okay, guys, please don’t embarrass me.”

“You embarrass yourself enough without our help,” Natasha teases him, dipping her pinkie finger into the bowl with the cake frosting.

Sharon swats her hand away and shoots a smile at Clint. “Stop worrying so much and go open the door.”

“Ugh, it’s you,” Steve hears Clint’s voice from the threshold of the house, before he calls out, louder, “Guys, it’s just Bucky!”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks up just in time to see Bucky poking his head around the kitchen door.

“I’m not early, am I?” he says, holding up a six pack of Guinness; Steve’s favourite. “I brought beer.”

“This is a dinner party, you should’ve brought wine instead.”

Bucky steps in the room and places the drinks on the counter, and really he’s standing too close to Steve, but he’s not even acknowledging him.

“You’re welcome, Natasha,” he says instead and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge before he spins around and walks out. “Gimme a shout if you need anything, I’ll be on the balcony,”

Steve not-so-discreetly watches him leave, and looks up to see both Sharon and Natasha smirking at him. “Shut up,” he groans, wipes his hands on his apron before he takes it off and dumps it on one of the chairs, and heads to the balcony.

He stands in front of the sliding door and takes a deep breath before he opens it and steps onto the balcony. Bucky, who’s leaning over the railing, glances over his shoulder to see who it is before he turns his gaze back towards the city that stretches out ahead of them.

Steve comes up to stand next to him. He feels tense all over, and he forces himself to take a breath before he speaks. “Hey, Buck,”

“Hey,” Bucky mumbles back, not looking at him.

God, he’s gorgeous. How had Steve never noticed how gorgeous Bucky is before? Or actually he had, had always been aware of it, but never more than in a friendly way. He’d never felt this pull towards him, never longed for him, wanted to touch him, to wrap his arms around him, kiss him stupid.

Bucky must notice that he’s staring, because he turns and meets his gaze, and whatever it is that he sees in Steve’s expression surprises him, his frown fading away, eyes widening a little. He turns his torso towards Steve, not breaking eye contact, but looking like he’s expecting Steve to say something.

“I, um…”

Damn. He should have rehearsed this.

“You want me,” Bucky whispers, barely audible, and there’s hesitation in his voice but there’s also a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Steve wants to kiss him.

“Um,” Steve swallows thickly. “Yeah.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, but shifts a little closer to Steve.

“I mean, I was just - caught up in the moment, the other day,” he mumbles. “But, uh, I kinda can’t stop thinking about it. You. Um, like that,” he shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, a light pink colouring his cheeks.

“So you weren’t just, you know...horny?”

“Buck,” Steve breathes, his eyes fluttering shut. “I’d never been so turned on in my entire life.”

Bucky barks out a laugh, then covers his mouth with his hand, but his eyes are shining when Steve looks into them, and he can’t but grin, feeling lighter finally, like a weight has lifted off his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Bucky mumbles, and he steps a little closer, and Steve is finding it really, really hard to not just grab him and kiss him. He’s determined to Talk First, Fuck Later, though, this time around.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” Bucky shrugs. “God, it was the best sex of my life, Steve.”

“Yeah? Same here.”

“But you want me...like that? You like me?”

Steve shrugs. “A little bit, yeah.”

“Me, too,” Bucky reaches out to fiddle with one of the buttons on Steve’s shirt, eyes cast downward, and yep, there it is, the last of Steve’s self control flies out the window. He brings up both hands to cup Bucky’s face before he leans in to kiss him, soft and slow. Bucky sighs into his mouth, arms wrapping around Steve’s middle, pulling them closer together, and all Steve can focus on is the warmth of Bucky’s body pressed against his, the sweet taste of his lips. He could probably spend an eternity kissing Bucky and never get tired of it.

The balcony door slides open and the two of them jump apart. “Hey, lovebirds.” Clint grins at them cheekily. “Quit being gross and come meet Sam,”

Steve nods towards the door with a little smile, and Bucky goes inside first, Steve following him close behind. Clint introduces them to Sam with a goofy grin on his face, which grows even wider when Sam drapes an arm across his shoulders, and Clint tucks himself closer to the man. They do look cute together, Steve thinks to himself, as he and Bucky shake hands with Sam, who smiles warmly at them. They make small talk for a few minutes before Natasha comes along and ushers them to the dinner table where the other half of the party is waiting for them.

“All good?” Peggy asks him when Steve sits down next to her.

Bucky takes the seat on his other side and hooks his ankle around Steve’s, shooting him a little grin, and Steve can’t help but smile back at him, heart fluttering with joy in his chest.

“Yeah,” Steve tells Peggy. “All good,”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean to write more in this verse? but this morning i woke up and wrote this so i thought i'd go ahead and post it anyway. consider it an epilogue of sorts. 
> 
> as always i'd love to hear your thoughts on it :)<33

 

 

A sleep-dazed smile creeps upon his face as Bucky slowly blinks awake and becomes aware of his surroundings. He closes his eyes, breathes out a happy sigh, then full-on grins, shuffling even closer to the warm body lying right next to him in his bed. Bucky reaches out with a hand to lay it between Steve's shoulder blades, and trail his fingers over the spread of freckles down his bare back, his touch light as air.

He feels a little soreness from the night before, but finds that he doesn't care at all. It's a Sunday, and he has nothing to do, nowhere to be, and he'll gladly spend his free day tucked into Steve's side. He's so warm, so soft, Bucky wants to use him as a personal heated blanket even if he's crushed under his weight. 

“Steve,” he whispers, voice a little hoarse. Must've been all the screaming he did the night before. God, being fucked by Steve was even better than fucking him, and he'd thought nothing would have topped that experience. But it was spectacular, and Bucky kept wanting more and more until they were both utterly spent, all the energy drained out of them so all they could do was collapse in bed and sleep for the next ten hours.

“Stevie,” Bucky tries again, props himself up on an elbow to lean down and press feather light kisses on Steve's back.

Steve grunts in response, and it sounds a lot like “No way,” and Bucky chuckles softly.

“I'm not trying to get in your pants,” he murmurs against the bare skin. “Tryna wake you up. Come on, I want pancakes.”

Steve pulls his head from under the pillow and blinks up at Bucky a few times before he shakes his head and goes back to sleep. Bucky grins at him, reaches out to card his fingers through the mess of Steve's blonde hair. He looks so adorable, sleep-rumpled and happily hugging his pillow, and Bucky loves him so much. He's always loved Steve, but now it's tenfold, so much stronger that it knocks the air out of his lungs and makes him feel like he's floating in the clouds all at once.

Bucky shifts, pressing his bare body to Steve's, slinging his arm around Steve's waist to pull him closer, so they're pressed head to toe, limbs tangled together. Steve grumbles and tucks his head under Bucky's, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck. 

“Come on, wake up and make us breakfast,”

“Suck my dick,” Steve mumbles sleepily. 

Bucky snorts out a laugh. “Okay,”

Steve breathes out a soft laugh and lifts his head to look at Bucky. “That's not gonna work anymore, is it?”

“Nope,” Bucky grins.

Steve shuffles so he comes on top, covering Bucky's body with his own, supporting himself on his elbows. He dips his head and presses a kiss to Bucky's collarbone, against his neck, and then lifts his head a little to give him a good morning kiss, quick and close-lipped yet so tender. 

“I have a better idea,” he whispers. “We stay right here and order the pancakes instead. Tell the delivery guy to bring it straight to bed for us, hmm?”

“That's the best idea you've ever had,” Bucky kisses him properly, slotting his lips between Steve's own, morning breath be damned. “I don't want to ever move anyway,” he says, tightening his arms around Steve's waist. “Could die happy right here,”

“Sap,” Steve smiles, nudges his nose against Bucky's before he kisses him. 

Eventually, they do get out of bed. Steve gets up first and drags Bucky to the shower with him, quiets his grumbling by shampooing his hair, working through the knots with his long, gentle fingers. They get dressed and walk hand in hand to their favourite diner, to eat a week’s worth of breakfast food. Bucky photographs and captions it ‘weekend brunch with the bae’, making Steve laugh around a mouthful of sunny side up eggs, shaking his head fondly.

They stroll through the park on their way back and stop by the grocery store to buy things for dinner and a whole lot of snacks to stash in their bedrooms, with Bucky's promises that that's where they'll be spending every moment of their free time from now on.

“You're insatiable, aren't you?” Steve teases him at the checkout counter, eyeing the huge bags of chocolates and licorice. 

“I can't help it, baby, you're delicious.” Bucky grins at him. “Oh, you meant the candy?” 

Steve blushes and turns to pay, feeling even more embarrassed at the unimpressed look the cashier gives him. 

It's late afternoon by the time they get back home. Bucky hums while he puts the groceries in the cupboards, and when everything is stored away safely, he grabs Steve's hand and pulls him into his arms.

“Take your clothes off,”

“Is the romance completely dead?”

Bucky kisses him as he snakes his hands under Steve's shirt, running them over the smooth skin of his stomach. “There was never any romance,” he teases. “You were just hungry for my cock and schemed to get to it,” 

Steve gasps, feigning offense. “How dare you, sir. I did no such thing, I am innocent,”

“Steve, shut up and take your clothes off.”

“Buck, really, that was never my- mmph-”

Bucky smiles against his lips. “I know, Stevie, I know. Now,” he says, slipping his hands under Steve's jeans and laying them flat on his ass.  “Clothes. Off.”

 


End file.
